Esme & Carlisle - Their Love Story
by LovinDrCullen
Summary: The love story of Carlisle and Esme Cullen.
1. Chapter 1

1911 - Wisconsin

Esme Platt was practically dragged into the local doctor's office, and if her leg didn't hurt so bad she would have fought and clawed at her mother for more or less pulling her by the ear.

"I don't think I need to go in there," Esme said with an argumentative ring to her voice. "Can't I just let it rest for a few days at home?"

"If I wasn't so caring of my daughter I would say yes," Mrs. Platt angrily gruffed back, "And believe me it's just as embaressing for me to be bringing you here looking like that." She referred to the dirty, ripped clothing that Esme was still wearing upon her fall from a tree.

She limped up the stairs under the arm of her mother with a scowl and got slightly more angry at how quickly her mother's tone switched when she began chatting with the receptionist.

"Hello." Mrs. Platt introduced herself in a cheery tone, and explained the circumstances. "My careless teenage daughter here was swinging from trees, and it appears as though she has a significant injury to the lower part of her right leg."

The woman behind the desk smiled. "We'll get her in immediately to be seen. Luckily it's been a slow day here, so you should be able to get right in to see the doctor."

"Thank you," she responded politely, then looked back at Esme disapprovingly as the woman left the room momentarily. "We'll discuss your punishment later," she whispered, "But I hope you enjoy the color of your walls because you won't be leaving your bedroom for the rest of the evening."

Esme didn't want to respond, but decided to make some peace with her mother in hopes that maybe her mother would go light on her punishment. "Yes ma'am."

The two of them stood without saying anything for a few minutes until the receptionist returned. "Right this way."

Mrs. Platt helped Esme into one of the empty rooms in the back before making her way back out of the room to discuss things further with the woman out front, closing the door behind her.

Esme sat on the edge of the table and dangled her good leg back and forth as she waited, slightly impatiently. Her eyes drifted out the window, sad to see the sun beginning to call it a night. On the other hand, she knew it would be less time to spend alone in her room.

Just outside the room, she heard the doctor's voice speaking with his co-worker and Esme sighed, wanting to get the rest of the day over with as quickly as possible.

The solid, white door clicked open and Esme slowly switched her gaze from the darkening world outside to the man walking into the room. Her eyes lit up when she saw him, and all of a sudden, perhaps for the first time ever, she wished she wasn't wearing her dirty, torn clothes. Butterflies began to make their home in the pit of her stomach and she had to consciously tell herself not to let her mouth drop open.

"Esme Platt," the man said with a wide smile, "I'm Dr. Cullen."

"Hi," she said, surprised by the sound of her own voice.

"So, I've gotten the version from your mother," he told her, still smiling as he sat down in front of where she was sitting. "Why don't you tell me what happened. Esme, is it?"

She nodded, "Yes. Uh, um, I fell out of a tree."

Dr. Cullen's smile grew wider, as he immediately admired her spirit. "Is that the whole story?" His hands made their way to the swollen, bruised section of her leg gently. "Let me know if I'm hurting you at all."

Esme's first thought was how cold his hands were. She then realized that she wanted to extend the moment for as long as possible, but she wasn't totally sure why. She felt a wave of wonderful anxiousness cross through her body and run her spine. She winced once, as he finally pushed on the area that hurt the most, and he immediately removed his hands from her leg.

Damn, she thought to herself, wishing she hadn't shown any pain.

Carlisle looked at her, and she thought he was going to continue his discussion of her leg's condition. "So," he began, "The whole story?"

Esme couldn't help but grin, and felt her cheeks grow flush as she knew she was blushing. No one had ever cared much about what she had to say, or the way she spent her time after school; not even her own parents.

"I suppose I'm not like most girls," she said with a shy shrug, "I enjoy being outside, and climbing trees and doing things that I'm not suppose to do, I guess."

Dr. Cullen smiled at her and nodded.

"I suppose you're going to tell me what they all do," Esme said, "Stay indoors. Act like a lady. Leave the mischief for the boys."

He laughed, and Esme, again, felt like she had been struck by Cupid's arrow. His laugh is so beautiful, and carefree and fun.

"Esme," he said quietly, "If there were more young ladies like yourself, maybe those stereotypes and gender barriers would finally be broken."

"What do you mean?" she asked, smiling wide.

"Do what makes you happy, and stay who you are." His eyes burned into hers as he spoke the words. When he finally broke the eye contact, he laughed again, "Just don't go around saying that I'm giving such advice or I might not have a job soon."

Esme could tell he was kidding, but a part of her felt a little pain from the thought of him actually losing his job. She didn't want that to happen, and the strength of that feeling suddenly made her feel almost confused.

Why do I care so much? she wondered. Maybe because he seems like a wonderful man.

"I'm going to continue examining your leg," he told her, continuing to look, what she felt like, was into the depths of her soul. "On a first impression I'd say it's broken. And I know it'll be difficult for you to stay indoors and off it for awhile, but if that ends up being the diagnosis, I'm going to have to ask you to do that."

Esme felt like she couldn't say no to him. She couldn't bring herself to. "Okay." She nodded and soaked in their next fifteen minutes together, which at the end seemed like just fifteen seconds.

They talked, and laughed and he completely took her mind off the pain. He was funny, and caring and handsome. Esme felt completely taken back by her conversation with him. There was one thing he did that captivated her more than anything; he listened. And not just on the surface, just nodding and smiling like everyone else she'd ever met. He commented back and gave his opinions and seemed interested and engaged. Their eyes rarely left each other's, aside from when he was examining her leg.

When Esme's mother returned to their company, and Dr. Cullen gave his analysis, she felt a wave of disappointment. She didn't want to leave the small examination room. She wanted to stay in that small doctor's office forever and talk to him.

"Thank you Dr. Cullen," Mrs. Platt said, shaking his hand. She, too, looked surprised by how cold his skin was, but she didn't say anything. "What do you say Esme?" Her voice turned harder when addressing her daughter.

Esme looked at the man in the eye. "Thank you very much Dr. Cullen."

"You're quite welcome." He smiled, then nodded again to her mother before Esme hobbled out of the of the building on crutches. She kept looking over her shoulder as she went, dreading the moment that the door closed and he disappeared from her sight. Even her mother's degrading lecture didn't get her down. All she could think of was the man who had bandaged her broken leg.

Dr. Cullen, she thought. Another sigh left her mouth and she realized she was smiling, drawing a confused expression from her mother.

"Are you even listened?" Mrs. Platt asked.

"Huh?" Esme asked, realizing she was standing with the door open.

"In the car."

"Oh." Esme sat down and her mother took the crutches from her to place in the back seat. As the car pulled away, she sat wondering in her daydreams if she would ever see Dr. Cullen again.


	2. Chapter 2

Carlisle looked over the chart he'd written out for the adventurous young lady that had just left the office.

Esme Platt, he thought to himself. What a unique name. Esme.

He began to think of the stipulations that women had to live up to and abide by, and how truly sexist and ridiculous they were. Sure, things had gotten better since the 1600's but women were still considered secondary citizens in the eyes of society. The fact that this girl, Esme, had broken through that barrier, even in the slightest of ways by climbing trees, gave Carlisle a sense of utmost respect for her bold character.

She could turn into some pioneer woman, he thought. A smile crossed his face at the thought of her leading a reform of women in the workplace, or making a salary equal to that of her future husband's. If there was one thing Carlisle thought was for certain, it was that Esme would lead a long, fulfilling life.

She will definitely be one of the rare ones who makes a difference.

"Dr. Cullen." A nurse entered the room with a smile, giving off a flirtatious vibe. "Would you like me to take that chart back to your office for you?"

Carlisle looked up for a moment, finding more of a spark from the name written on the sheet of white paper than from the attractive woman's glowing expression as she waited with a smile to hear his answer.

"I'm still looking it over," he told her, "But thank you for the offer."

"Anytime," she said, still lingering in the doorway. "Anything you need just let me know."

Carlisle nodded, letting his eyes fall back to the woman's short biography. He didn't mean to be rude to the nurse, who awkwardly left the room upon his lack of interest in her, or the double-meaning of the comment she had just laid out onto the table.

He grinned to himself again at the thought of Esme Platt making a difference in the world, and he hoped that his thoughts were accurate. With that, he brought the sheet down to be filed and left for the day with a smile on his face.

"Esme Ann, we are having company tonight and I will not have you hobbling around this house in front of our guests." Mrs. Platt hadn't had enough of scolding her daughter. "I would rather not explain to our friends about what lead you to _this_ condition." She motioned her hands down to her broken leg as she spoke just as exasperated as ever.

Esme didn't want to spend the evening with her parents' friends. They were dull, boring and rather stuck up. She always felt edgy and uncomfortable when they would visit, and so she welcomed her punishment, but didn't let it show in her features.

"Okay." She gave a pouty look to her mother.

"Your father will be home soon. I can't wait to tell him the in's and out's of our afternoon."

"I need help getting up the stairs so I can attempt to shower and sulk for the rest of the evening."

"Oh, don't be so dramatic Esme," her mother said, "It will do you no good in getting out of your punishment." She aided her daughter up the stairwell and into her bedroom.

"I've got it from here," she told her mother. "I can manage to give myself a bath and get into my pajamas for the night. I won't bother you and Dad at all."

Mrs. Platt looked at her daughter. "Very well. If you do need me to help you get dressed, give a holler. I'll be in the kitchen cooking."

Esme nodded and her mother shut the door. She looked around the empty room, knowing she would be in for a long, boring night.

It's still better than hanging around with those stiffs downstairs, she thought. Oh, and I can't wait for what my father will have to say about all of this. A repeat of my mother's words I'm sure, only more harsh.

She managed her way down to the wash room and cleaned up, being careful not to bump the leg, or ruin the cast that Dr. Cullen had assembled for her.

Esme smiled to herself at the passing thought of his name. She splashed some cold water onto her face, then leaned her hands onto the cold sink, being instantly reminded of the feel of his icy hands. A chill ran down her back, but it wasn't the cold surface that caused such a reaction.

Gosh he was handsome, she thought.

Esme continued to wash her face before eventually making her way back down the hallway to her room. She tried not to hobble around too much, as she didn't want to be bombarded and smothered by her mother.

As she slipped into her pajamas, she heard her father's voice as he made his way into the house after a long day's work. Immediately, her mother told him the story of their day, and she waited for him to barge into her room as his heavy footsteps bounded up the staircase.

"Esme." He knocked on the door, but didn't wait for her to call him in. His eyes fixed on her cast, and then the crutches and he shook his head with disapproval. "You disobeyed your mother's wishes. Playing in trees? Trees are no place for a young girl."

"I'm sorry, father. I know. It won't happen again."

He glared at his daughter, feeling embaressment washing over him at the thought that someone might have seen them in town.

The next fifteen minutes or so, Esme blocked him out. He yelled, and cursed once or twice, stating his disappointment over and over again like a broken record of a terrible song. She nodded monotonously and spoke each "Yes sir" with a blandness in her voice that made her want to vomit.

"Stay in here for the rest of the night." That was how he ended it, then left before she could respond a final time.

Esme sulked for a minute or two before she finally found a comfortable spot in the center of her bed. She eyed the white paint on the ceiling as it chipped away in certain areas.

Bored already, she thought with a sigh.

Downstairs, her parents chatted anxiously back and forth as they prepared for an evening with their stuck up friends. She hated the sound of their voices. They didn't care about who she was or what she wanted. Sure, every teenage girl feels that way at some point right? But she recognized that it was a permanent feeling, not just a passing by thought because she was angry with them. They really didn't listen.

Esme thought about her conversation with Dr. Cullen.

_He_ listened, she thought. He _really_ listened. He wasn't pretending, or yessing her to death. His eyes spoke the truth, and his responses were equally as uplifting.

She couldn't get the image of him out of her mind. She had never been instantly captivated by someone in her life. Something about him was unique and comforting.

"What was his first name?" she asked herself aloud. He hadn't said it to her directly, but she was sure someone would know, her mother perhaps.

Esme looked down at her leg and ran her hand across the cast. She closed her eyes, picturing the color of his eyes as he looked deeply into hers. They, too, were unique. She had never seen anyone with eyes of topaz and gold. Somehow the cold temperature of his hands provided her with more warmth than any touch she'd ever experienced in her life.

Her mother's hugs were rigid and stiff, and her father rarely showed any type of affection. There was no one else to throw in the mix of things, but she was sure her parents should have provided her with some sense of warmth and comfort. Esme hadn't had a boyfriend before, so she had no romantic experience to go by.

She knew Dr. Cullen was older than she was, if not by much.

He couldn't have been older than twenty-one or twenty-two, she thought, and he would never be interested in a dumb, young girl like me anyway. He's probably married.

Esme thought for a moment, knowing her eyes actively scanned his fingers for a wedding ring. She smiled to herself, knowing he hadn't been wearing one.

Maybe not.

She reached under the mattress of her bed and took out a journal she liked to write in on occasion and scribbled the day's date on the top of an empty page.

Her entry began with: I wonder if I'll ever see him again...


	3. Chapter 3

Carlisle sat alone in his home, feeling a combination of things. He found himself unable to stop thinking of the unique nature of Esme Platt's personality. She was different, and bold and intriguing. He was glad to see someone who wasn't bashful about breaking through society's degrading barriers. On the other hand, he hoped that unjust nature of her peers and even family members, wouldn't cause her distress from trying to force her to be someone she wasn't.

The unfamiliar 'high on life' feeling he was gaining from meeting the young lady was quietly accompanied by a sneaky loneliness that was beginning to take the place of Carlisle's good natured feeling. He assumed for a moment that it was nature's natural balance of a 'high' followed by a 'low', but he wasn't so sure that his thoughts were correct. He knew the science of the notion, and agreed with it, but it was his own feelings and personal nature of the situation that allowed him to have a strong bias and disagree with what he would have otherwise agreed with.

The night had begun to get the best of him, and the undying hours when the rest of the town slept seemed to drag on. He wished he had someone close enough to talk to; to have a real conversation with the way he had with Esme. For centuries he hadn't had the pleasure of a true, enjoyable interaction. Aro and the other members of the Volturi intrigued him in different ways, but he never felt carefree in the way he discussed things with his former company. The Italian coven had been cold, cross and judgmental. They listened, but scoffed at his words and beliefs half the time, and they could only truly agree on things that were proven; exact sciences and mathematics. Aside from the academic world, Carlisle and the Volturi strongly clashed on their views. The biggest difference was that Carlisle didn't degrade them for their choices.

Esme was different. She was easy to speak with. Her eyes showed her true interest in his words, and her intentions were anything but judgmental. Carlisle felt as though she could have heard him out for hours, giving her honest input on situations, and commenting from the heart on his life's choices.

Would she believe it if I told her I was a vampire? he thought. It left his mind as quickly as it had entered. His fantasies about sitting the doctor's office and talking about life with Esme Platt ran through his mind for the remainder of the night, but he knew he had to let them go.

Being two-hundred and fifty years old and without a mate made him think. He hadn't settled for a random woman, despite the loneliness he'd felt. He hadn't been willing to change a healthy, human being for several reasons; one, for the fact that he felt it was wrong to bring someone into the immortal life who still had so much human life to live, and two, because he knew if he felt nothing for the woman that the act itself would have been a waste of a life. Considering no one had particularly intrigued him, he hadn't even seriously considered turning a human women for his own benefit.

The bar has been raised, he thought to himself.

Carlisle replayed Esme's traits in his mind. She was kind, bold and had a good sense of humor; she thought for herself, but wasn't disrespectful to her elder, or parents; though Carlisle felt as though it wouldn't be totally wrong if she had been. The purity and goodness just radiated out of her and she was so full of life. She intrigued him and most of all, made him think of her long after their time together had passed. He knew he had to find a woman in the future that hit all of those "check marks", so to speak.

At least I know what to look for. He continued to think about her, staring blankly into a book on the desk in front of him that had been sitting open on the same page for hours. His eyes searched the page, finding letters consecutively from different words: "e" from the word 'made'; "s" from the word 'sacrifice'; "m" and "e" from the word "mother".

Carlisle shook his head, thinking of how crazy it was to have subconsciously spelled out her name from words on the page in a book. A small streak of sunlight began to shine through the curtains that he failed to pull shut the night before, illuminating the pages in the binding.

He closed his eyes for a moment, and found himself thankful that the night was over.

She's going to have a wonderful life, he thought to himself. The fact that he believed it made him smile. He knew Esme Platt was strong. She would be fine. She would defy her parents on occasion, and possibly strain the relationship slightly; but they would make full amends when she had children, and her mother, while overprotective and slightly sexist herself due to the times, would melt at the sight of her grandchildren. It would pull her and her daughter even closer than they ever thought imaginable.

Yes, he thought, she'll have a long, happy, healthy life.

With that, he closed the book shut and began to think of where his next move would be.


End file.
